


Welcome to Los Santos

by SmoshGamesCrew



Category: Smosh
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Diners, Drama, F/M, Falling In Love, Gangs, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Recreational Drug Use, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 03:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoshGamesCrew/pseuds/SmoshGamesCrew
Summary: Courtney Miller fled her rough life in Liberty City on a whim with five hundred dollars and a Los Santos brochure to her name. Unbeknownst to her, Los Santos is everything but an escape from her past.





	Welcome to Los Santos

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first fanfiction! 
> 
> I've always wanted to write a fic centered around Los Santos. Hopefully I do it justice! 
> 
> Enjoy, loves.

Courtney Miller was used to squalor. She was used to the shitty apartment in Liberty City, with parents who either hit the bottle too hard, or hit each other when the alcohol was flowing. Glass breaking was a scare tactic that lost its affect as the years went on. Yet, the escalating arguments of slurred insults seemed to cut deeper than glass ever could. Her mother Donna cried often, and Courtney was used to that too.

The attempts to comfort had been robotic. Hugging her mother while she drunkenly babbled her hopes and dreams, and her plans for the future before Courtney had been born had been awkward. Of course, that was forgotten as she passed out on the floor, leaving the blonde to her own devices.

It was always up to Courtney to clean up after fights. Her father, Bob would be out cold on the futon in their destroyed living room while a poker tournament played on the television. Walls were coated in beer droplets, and glass had been embedded in the carpet.

 _“Daddy doesn't mean to get mad! He's just a gamblin man, honey. You know how that goes_.” Her mother's voice echoed in her head as she would plug in the vacuum. It was always a simple justification of every action, and when that didn't make Courtney feel better, Donna would light up a cigarette and simply shrug with the smell of liquor clinging to her.

  
The walls were scrubbed often, even after the beer was washed away. Memories never seemed to disappear in the murky waters. Maybe some things were meant to stay in her mind for a reason.

  
Ultimately, that reason ended up being Los Santos. It seemed to be her only way to escape, and she was prepared.  
Her rucksack with clothes and trinkets had been packed for a while. Five hundred dollars and a brochure to a better life was all Courtney had to her name. The only thing left behind for her parents to find was a simple note that read; _“I'm safe. I love you.”_ It was unknown if she meant it.

Tears never fell as she boarded the cheapest flight she could get. There was no sentimental goodbye, or loving words with friends. It was just the view of a clear blue sky, and the sun beaming through the window. Something new was on the horizon.  
Something better.  
Or maybe not.

* * *

Los Santos wasn't safe for a runaway. That much could be determined as days went by for the blonde who walked along the graffiti colored murals of gang signs, passing by doped up squatters in rundown “houses” if a spot under the bridge was taken.

She was running low on funds and had to start looking for a job instead of wasting more cash for another night in a sketchy motel.

It was clear that no one looked past the starlets of Vinewood Hills that were pumped full of plastic and living in mansions along the hillside as a commodity in daily tourist attractions. After all, it was their selling point. Sometimes it was hard to imagine anything other than the plush green grass of a freshly trimmed lawn, or that each apartment complex had its own gated community.

Everything was picturesque, bright, and secure. Wealth bled through the cracks along the pristine sidewalks of Rockford Hills where the latest socialites and debutantes sauntered confidently with their heads held high. They were new money, selfish and arrogant, blind to the dangers that ran amok on the wrong side of town.

Amongst the lavish lifestyle that attached itself to Los Santos like a vice, came the community of Strawberry district; where homeless druggies and wanna-be gangbangers littered the deplorable city streets with little shame and a dream to be known for all the wrong reasons. 

It was easy to be overlooked, invisible under the bridges as glitzy sports cars revved up overhead towards the strip clubs, where rich men from Vinewood would come to attempt to cheat on their wives, dressed in three-piece suits and a wad of cash to put in a stripper's panties. 

Almost everyone was armed with homemade weaponry, shanks from beer bottles were the most common. Others got lucky with a glock because a drug deal went wrong on their part of the street. Life in general was harder. Food was next to nothing, so skin was hallowed and sunken, faces were gaunt as the world kept spinning, bleak and hopeless. No one was blessed with rose colored glasses in Strawberry.

Copper was a normal smell and blood was nothing new. Being dead and nameless in an alleyway was something that people got used to. It was mostly drug addicts who died with a needle in their collapsed veins and brittle skin. Cops never busted the kingpins, even though they were in plain sight counting cash from lost individuals with nothing to live for but their quick fix. 

“Spare some change?” Courtney turned to find a rough looking guy staring at her. Unkempt and unshaven, broken aviators perched on top of his greasy brown hair.  
“I don't have much on me.” His eyes never left hers, he smiled tightlipped and unwavering, taking in her appearance before speaking again.

“You ain't from these parts are ya? I'd be careful if I were a pretty, clean, girl roaming this shithole. Bad people like to come out and play. I've seen more prostitutes snatched up in broad daylight than I'd care to admit.” Courtney nodded, chills running down her spine at his admission. Her fingers twisted a hair tie along her wrist.

“What's your name?” her voice was curious and calm. A warm breeze settled over the pair, though her skin pricked anxiously. 

“Joe. Joe Bereta.”

“Courtney Miller. I'm from Liberty City.”

“You might want Vinewood if you're vacationing. Strawberry isn't really touristy.”

“I'm not on vacation.” Weirdly enough, Joe seemed to understand.

“Sorry. It's been a while since someone spoke to me humanely.” Joe bit his lip, his teeth sinking into the chapped skin as Courtney grimaced, fingernails picking at the frays of her jeans.

“I saw Vespucci Diner when I started walking around here. If it's open, I'd be more than willing to buy you lunch.”

“Don't trust me with cash? I'm not an addict, sweetheart.” he smirked at the girl's blushing face in an attempt to sputter an apology.

“I just figured you were hungry.” 

“I'll be alright.”

“I didn't mean to offend you.” He brushed her off with a smile before resting his hands on his tattered jeans. A simple shrug in response before he jumped to his feet.

“You didn’t. Maybe I'll take you up on that lunch offer another time. Enjoy your time in Los Santos kiddo. Be careful, hope you can find what you're looking for.” He turned, retreating along the broken concrete as he disappeared out of sight.

Joe's words swirled in her mind as she made her way to Vespucci's. A serene feeling overtook her as she crossed the main street.

It was a venture into the unknown. Courtney was ready to take it.


End file.
